Shore Leave
by Ultra-Geek
Summary: Four and a half times that McCoy's shore leave was shot to hell, plus one time that it wasn't.


**Title:** Shore Leave  
**Author:** Ultra-Geek  
**Rating: **T, 'cause Bones has himself a bit of a swearing problem  
**Disclaimer:** Yeah, I own nothing.**  
Summary**: Four times that McCoy's shore leave was shot to hell, and one time that it wasn't.  
**AN**: This is my first foray into the Star Trek fandom, new or otherwise. I saw the new movie and soon got roped into the original series as well. Now…well, I'm a trekkie and proud of it! My sister and I had a fun moment, though, where we were walking through the mall and she had a Star Wars shirt on and I had my Star Trek shirt on. I turned to her and said, "Hey, can you hear everyone judging us too?" Good times.

* * *

1)

It was the first time in a long time (so long he'd lost track at eight months) that McCoy had finally managed to wrangle shore leave. It was on one of the first planets to join the Federation – perfectly safe with plenty of bars and stores and restaurants, and most importantly, modern medical facilities – and it would take hell freezing over to stop him from leaving the _Enterprise._ It wasn't that McCoy didn't like the ship, it was that the ship was a starship, and in space, and…maybe it was that McCoy didn't like the ship.

It would be two days without idiots stumbling in days after they should've gotten that rash looked at. Two days that would consist not of slapping Ensigns and Commanders and Lieutenants and especially that one Captain upside the head, but of sleep and relaxation. It would be two wonderful days spent downing booze because he wouldn't need to think about having to be sober to make an emergency decision.

It had been two months and eleven days since his last day off. On a related note, it had been two months and eleven days since his last drink.

Not that he was counting, of course.

McCoy yanked the zipper closed on his duffel bag. He had dug through his closet until he had finally unearthed his civvies. He grinned – full out, teeth showing grinned – at the very thought of getting off of the ship. It took every ounce of self control he possessed not to break down and simply giggle. Just giggle like a prepubescent girl at a slumber party.

But he was a doctor and not, in fact, a prepubescent girl and so he was able to control himself with just a grin.

He walked out the door just in time to be knocked off his feet as tremors wracked the _Enterprise_. He swore, and left his duffel sitting on the floor. He sprinted to the nearest communications module and punched in the code. "Nurse Chapel," he snapped. "What're the damages?"

"We've got wounded coming in from engineering. Five critically injured, all projected to need surgery. Twelve minor to moderate injuries."

McCoy swore, and set out at a dead run for sick bay.

When he finally emerged from the operating room, twenty three hours later, it was late in the night. McCoy could barely manage to stumble to his quarters. The doctor almost fell over his still abandoned bag. He fell asleep fully clothed, boots on, and on top of the covers. When he awoke the next day, it was again well into the evening, and his slotted time for shore leave had passed.

2)

When Kirk got back to San Francisco from Iowa, he expected to be the first one back. But it turned out that Scotty had been unable to leave the _Enterprise_ in the hands of Starfleet's other engineers and had barely left the ship. It took promises of single malt scotch – paid for by Kirk, of course – to get him even off of the satellite and down to Earth. It was from the Chief Engineer, then, that Kirk came to learn that McCoy hadn't left California either.

Three hours and seven bars later, Kirk found Bones staring morosely into a glass of whiskey. Kirk sat heavily in the chair next to him. McCoy barely even blinked.

"I thought that you were going to Georgia," Kirk said.

"I was. I didn't."

"That's what Scotty told me," said Kirk. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Go away. Just leave me alone."

Ironically, it was the lack of swearing that tipped Kirk off. "Bones, how much have you had to drink?"

"Here or all together?" was the slurred answer. Kirk grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. McCoy tried to pull his arm away but just ended up almost tipping over. "Damn it, leave me alone, Kirk!"

"Look, we can do this here, or we can go somewhere else," Kirk said quietly. "Your choice."

McCoy glared at him for a second more, and then his shoulders slumped slightly. Kirk took it as a sign of defeat, and dragged McCoy out of the bar. It took some doing, but they were soon sitting in Kirk's temporary quarters. "Okay," Kirk said. He crossed his arms and gave McCoy a piercing look. "What happened? For days, all I could get out of you was that you were going to get a week with your daughter. I get back, and I find out you've spent a week hammered instead."

"None of your business."

"Haven't you learned anything? Everything is my business."

McCoy gritted his jaw, and then pulled a datapad off of Kirk's nightstand. He logged into something, and then handed it over to the captain. Kirk wordlessly accepted it and read:

_Leonard_,

_I've decided that it would be better for Joanna to come with Steve and me for the next week to Paris. Sorry, and maybe you can see her next time._

_Jocelyn_

"Oh, Bones," Kirk said, and sat down next to his friend. "I'm sorry."

McCoy heaved a sigh. "Yeah," he said, angrily scrubbing at his eyes. "Me too."

3)

No one ever really found out what happened on McCoy's third attempt at shore leave. Once, after coaxing copious amounts of alcohol down his throat, Kirk managed to get a single sentence out of the doctor on the subject.

"Fuckin' possessed girl scouts," McCoy growled before passing out. "I'm a _doctor_, Jim, not a damned _exorcist_…"

4)

"Bones!"

McCoy flinched slightly as Kirk paraded loudly into his office. He glanced down at the datapad in front of him. He had two options: One, ignore Kirk and continue reading until the captain forced his attention. Two, give up now, save about ten minutes, and just go along with whatever Kirk wanted. McCoy found the decision, quite literally, plucked from his fingers as Kirk grabbed the datapad from him. "What do you want, Jim?" McCoy asked, not bothering to try and reclaim his work.

Kirk examined the datapad. "What is this?"

"Paperwork," McCoy said. "Lots of paperwork. Lots of paperwork that's piled up so I have to get it done now."

"Says who?"

"You."

"Oh," Kirk frowned, seeming troubled for a moment. Then he dropped the datapad on the chair next to him. "One of your staff can take care of it and you'll just sign it when we get back."

"Jim, that's the stupidest –" McCoy stopped abruptly and looked at Jim suspiciously. "Get back from where?"

"Me and you are going on shore leave."

McCoy stared at him. "Shore leave?"

"Yes, Bones, shore leave. It's when members of Starfleet beam down to a planet for a specified amount of time and relax."

McCoy would've rolled his eyes – really, he would've. But his brain had shut down briefly. "Sorry, but…_shore leave_?"

Now Kirk was the one to roll his eyes. "Yes, Bones, Shore. Leave. It's not that hard of a concept to grasp. We're leaving in an hour for the surface. Be in the transporter room then or I'll come drag you there myself."

Kirk didn't, in fact, have to drag McCoy there himself. The doctor arrived right on time, and was soon grousing at Kirk as they walked through the streets of the planet. There were bars, restauraunts, stores, bars, and more bars everywhere. McCoy could easily see why Kirk had chosen this planet. "I'm hungry," Kirk announced after they dumped their things at a hotel.

"I'm shocked."

"Oh, c'mon, Bones, lighten up," Kirk answered with a grin.

So that is how they came to enter the streets right as a group of rebels decided that today would be a good day to seize control and liberate or whatever. McCoy didn't really care what their ultimate plan was, because all it added up to was that this was the fourth attempt at shore leave shot straight to hell in a handbasket.

Instead of drinking and relaxing, McCoy found himself inside the capital building with Kirk, no idea how he'd gotten there, and elbow deep in a senator's stomach to keep the man from bleeding out. Needless to say, it wasn't exactly his idea of good time. Kirk disappeared at some point to 'aid in negotiations' or something. McCoy didn't know, and as long as the captain kept himself mildly out of trouble and uninjured, he didn't really care.

After the senator was out of immediate danger, McCoy found himself treating a variety of nonlethal injuries. Chapel was beamed down to assist, along with a security team. Kirk reappeared a few hours later and smiled tiredly at McCoy.

McCoy glared. "If this is your idea of shore leave," he growled, "I'd hate to see what you consider 'vacation'."

Kirk deflated slightly.

4.5)

McCoy would never be sure if it counted as an extension of his fourth attempt at shore leave or another debacle entirely. After all, as they walked out from the capital building Jim had clapped him on the shoulder and declared shore leave. Again.

In the end, McCoy decided it was neither here nor there, and would be remembered as attempt four and a half.

Because as they were walking out, right as Jim was throwing his head back and laughing, McCoy saw a figure in the crowd. He was wearing the colors of the rebellion, and had some sort of gun pointed _straight at Jim_. Later, McCoy couldn't remember if he'd yelled and shoved Jim out of the way or yelled and jumped in front of him. Not that it really mattered. All that mattered was that a split second of removing the captain from harm's way he was flat on the ground, twitching and writhing.

The world around him was reduced to noises and agony. Every one of his muscles were sporadically cramping. God, he felt like someone had lit him on fire. Hands on his shoulders. He's staring at the sky. A face blocking the sun. Jim's face. Yelling. Someone's yelling. Jim's mouth is moving. Oh, God, please, let it stop. Just make it stop!

White lights. Weightlessness. He's floating momentarily. Is this death? But then the pain is back. Its burning and someone's moving him and there's more yelling. Something's pressed over his mouth. The ceiling is flashing by in stripes of color, and he has no idea where or what or who is passing around him. There's a sharp poke in his neck.

Finally, the pain stops. Darkness.

McCoy returned to consciousness with all the grace, poise, and speed of a motorcycle slamming into a brick wall. He shuddered, feeling his entire body trembling uncontrollably. There was a hand resting on his forearm.

"Bones?" Was that Jim? It sounded like Jim. The hand gripped his forearm tighter. "Can you hear me?"

McCoy opened his eyes and let out a hiss of discomfort as he closed them again. He could hear Jim curse and say, "Computer, lights down to fifty percent. Bones, it shouldn't hurt your eyes now. C'mon, wakey wakey."

Much slower and carefully this time, McCoy peered around him. Jim was hovering over him. After a few seconds of blinking and allowing his eyes to adjust to the much dimmer surroundings, McCoy turned his attention to Kirk. "C-c-c-can't st-stop shak-k-king," he muttered.

"I know," Kirk answered. "The doctors say that should be gone completely in about a week. You'll be back to your good old steady handed hypo wielding self in no time."

"G-good-d-d," McCoy answered. Then, a thought occurred to him. "J-Jim?"

"Yeah, Bones."

"You-ou owe m-m-m-me a f-f-fucking lon-ong sh-sh-sh-shore l-leave."

+ 1)

"I think you'll like this one, Bones. She's shorter than you, hair's kinda your color, a little lighter," Kirk said. "She's your type. You'll love her."

"Jim, I plan on actually _enjoying_ this shore leave. That means no random shootings. No bar fights. No patching you up in the middle of the night, and no being fixed up on dates," McCoy growled in response.

"But, _Bones_ – "

"Don't 'but Bones' me, Kirk. I mean it this time. I plan on doing what I want, when I want to. I plan on letting myself be bored out of my skull, because boring sounds pretty nice right about now," McCoy said.

"Look, will at least meet her?" Kirk said. "She's really excited to meet you, and it would be rude to let this girl down. Trust me; she's a high class kind of girl. All I'm asking is that you talk to her before you make a decision, that's all. C'mon, please?"

McCoy sighed. He knew when he was beat, after all. He used to try and fool himself into thinking that he was immune from the patented James T. Kirk charm, but all the captain had to do was flick on the puppy dog eyes and McCoy was done. Not that he'd ever tell anyone that, of course. "Fine. Fine, I'll meet her. But I'm not making any promises."

"That a boy, Bones!" Kirk was almost bouncing on his feet as they walked. There were only a minute or so away from where the friends, families, and admirers of the _Enterprise_ were waiting to greet them home. Kirk and McCoy were walking in the back – the captain had to be last to depart, after all – and ahead of them they could hear the happy noises of people reuniting ahead of them. "She's going to be waiting at the gate –"

"Dammit, Jim, why the hell do I have to –"

"_Daddy_!" a voice shrieked, and McCoy found himself almost knocked off balance as a small figure wrapped itself around him.

McCoy's mouth worked for a moment, and then he managed to choke out, "_Joanna?" _Then he was kneeling right there in the passage and hugging his little girl. It had been years since he had held her. She was giggling and he'd be damned if it wasn't the most beautiful noise that he'd ever heard in his life. He put a hand on each of her shoulders and held her out so he could look at her. "What…how…?"

"Captain Jim talked to Mom," she said, still beaming. She was missing one of her front teeth. "She said I could come here and stay with you for a week!"

"Captain…Jim?"

"I told you so, Bones," Kirk said lightly. McCoy looked up at him, surprised. He'd forgotten Kirk was even there. "I knew you'd like this one."

"I-I…" McCoy was dangerously close to tears. So instead of talking, he just hugged Joanna again. He mouthed 'thank you' up at Jim, who just smiled in return. Then, he hoisted Joanna up onto his back as they finished walking out. She was talking rapidly about all sorts of things, and McCoy was drinking in every word.

Maybe this shore leave wouldn't be that boring after all…


End file.
